


in screaming color

by Lizzen



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Surprise Guests - Freeform, Torture, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10837854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: The Resistance sends its newest recruit and most daring pilot into the underbelly of galactic crime on an undercover mission; an adventure of utmost importance. Naturally, things get weird.





	in screaming color

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thanks to my A <333 and the cramazingly awesome m and omg my sweet petragem; ilu girls forevz.

**HOW IT BEGAN:**  
Finn wakes up and everything, _everything_ is different. Rey’s gone, and he’s a war hero - a veritable _big deal_ in the Resistance. There are flowers in his little recovery room in medical, and the general’s aide is often visiting with questions in her mouth about the mission, about the First Order, about Kylo Ren. 

And behind careful sutures, there is a part-metal spine in his back. It’s not quite enough: he’ll limp for the rest of his life. But he’s whole. 

What makes everything better is this: on the rare occasion, Poe drops by with a giant smile on his lips and a box of something sweet in his hands. Those are Finn’s favorite moments; Poe makes him laugh, makes him feel at ease, makes him feel alive.

It’s not a thing he tries to overthink, of course; he’s learned, and he’s still learning how dangerous attachments can be. 

He knows: one way or another, people always leave you.

*  
When he’s on his feet -- well, on two legs and cane -- he’s taken to the general’s war room and given a chair and a tablet with a dossier about Storga the Hutt.

“When stormtroopers could not be reconditioned,” the general says as she enters the room. “Where did they go?”

Finn straightens in his chair. “They were terminated, ma’am.”

She leans against the desk and eyes him carefully. “We’ve learned that they are sold, Finn.” When he shivers, she smiles slightly. “And I want them.”

“You would buy them from Storga?” he asks, gesturing to the tablet. 

“The Nikto are the criminal power now, but the Hutt will know where the slaves are kept.” Her eyes glitter. “My spies are good, very good, but only an ex-First Order soldier will recognize his peers, and will know how to inspire them.”

His heart beats fast in his chest, and he wills himself to breathe slowly. She’s not a woman to disappoint; she’s a woman to impress. But his mouth opens anyway: “And you’ll force them to serve you?”

She watches him very carefully. “When freed, what do you think they’ll want to do?”

“To live,” he blurts out, but he can’t help the chaser: “To fight.”

And Leia Organa smiles.

Then: “I will need help,” he says because it’s true and because it’s an honest response.

She turns away from him, and looks at her own tablet. “You’ve been assigned a partner. He’ll be your pilot and bodyguard.” And she turns rather abruptly back to look at him with the sharpest, most keen eyes he’s ever seen. “And you must promise to return him unharmed.”

The cognitive dissonance bemuses him, spies are disposable; but he nods, once, twice. “Of course.”

“You leave in twelve hours. The Intelligence Division will inform you of your alias, arrange for your appearance.” And then: “This is a desperate hour for the Resistance. I need pilots. I need troops. Be successful, Finn. I need you to be successful.”

He nods his head again, as seriously as he can. But nervously, he awkwardly grips his cane, hard enough to whiten his knuckles. He would never say it out loud, but she’s more terrifying than her son.

*  
He pours over the dossier diligently and listens to the audio recordings of key Huttese phrases.

He obediently stands as the Intelligence Division informs him of his new name and dresses him in opulently rich fabrics and pierces his ears to adorn them with gold and gives him a crash course in walking with a regal authority.

He opens his mouth in shock when he approaches the ship that will take him to Nar Shaddaa, for it is unlike any he’s seen before - a reconditioned Kuat ship fit for a wealthy smuggler.

And he understands the general’s sharp tone and fierce command when he sees a man, dressed in black leather, standing at the gangplank with a giant smile on his lips. “My Lord Gyllenstierna,” Poe says and drops into a very graceful bow. “Adventure awaits us.”

 

*

 

 **HOW THE PLOT THICKENED:**  
Finn leans back in the copilot chair to consider his situation. It will take an hour in full lightspeed to arrive at Nar Shaddaa, and an hour of negotiations to get an audience scheduled with Storga. This audience may not occur for several weeks. 

Which means that he’s going to get a lot better acquainted with Poe Dameron. 

*  
En route, they discuss and build their backstories to enrichen the alias and waste time. Who are their fake parents, and favorite foods and planets and activities. When did they meet and why does _Master Rosen_ follow _Lord Gyllenstierna_ across the stars, other than cold hard credits. Is there any truth to their enterprising exploits or is Finn’s persona just disgustingly wealthy. What is their stance on the Republic, the First Order, the Resistance. 

But then the conversation shifts. 

Poe bites his lip. “First time you had sex.” And there’s definite mischief in the sparkle in his eye.

Finn thinks about it and an honest answer unfurls out of him. “I’m a virgin, I guess. So never.”

Shaking his head with feigned disgust, Poe says, “So it’s Rosen that gets all the action then. All across the galaxy. And tells Gyl every little detail.” 

It’s a quiet sort of sound that bubbles out of him, saying: “Gyl hates him a little for it.”

Poe looks at him careful, carefully. “No,” he says, “They can’t hate each other. No, no, I won’t allow it. I take it all back. Rosen is a perfect gentleman.”

“He’s a smuggler and a murderer,” Finn counters.

“Like I said, a gentleman.”

Finn can’t help but smile. And before he can stop himself, he says: “So, mister gentleman pirate, what about first love?”

The answer comes so readily, Finn’s surprised. “A Corellian pilot,” Poe says. “Turned out to be a First Order spy. Broke my heart.”

“I bet she was a devil, that one. What’s her name?”

Poe looks out at the stars flying past them. His voice is quiet. “His name was Tip.” Even softer: “And I really did love him.”

Every inch of his skin tingles. Finn breathes in the stale starship air and doesn’t ask any further questions.

*  
As agreed upon, three Twi’leks greet them at the docking bay, and they bow so low that their lekku touch the ground. 

Finn hands Poe his cane, evens his stance, and claps his hands twice, a sharp ringing sound. “Rise, so that we may do business,” he says. “I do not have much time.”

The one with the most ornate dress looks up. “Her Eminence is honored by your presence, but it is the day of her daughter’s wedding. She will not be able to visit with you on important manners for several days.”

“In the meantime,” says another, “We will house you in the finest rooms and bring you the most elegant delights.”

“And procure the finest women for you,” says the third.

“Oh no,” Finn says. “The rooms and food, yes, lovely, but--” and he looks to Poe for help. Poe smiles blithely back at him but his eyes are slightly wide. “No, no, we, my partner and I, we--”

The Twi’lek blink steadily at him. 

“We’re together. We are together, _we are together_ ,” Finn says so rapidly that it’s almost unintelligible. 

“Ah.”

He resolutely does not look at Poe, even when Poe hands his cane back to him. “So,” he says, needing the cane more than ever to lean on, “we will await her pleasure.” 

 

*

 

**HOW IT WENT SIDEWAYS:**

While Nar Shaddaa is a sprawling citadel moon that mostly mirrors the underbelly of Coruscant, Storga’s housing for honored guests is impressively grand; no expense spared. The Hutts never did business like this previously, but with the Nikto in power, the Hutts have evolved with the times. 

Wealthy humans, after all, come with expectations along with their promises of much needed credits.

It’s a large room with massive windows and strange artworks; there’s a bed in the middle, several couches, a door to the refresher in the far corner, and a long wooden table with a fragrant-smelling feast on it. 

Finn heads straight to the roasted meats and cheeses, leaning his cane against an elaborately carved chair. His mouth is full before he remembers, and oh how he remembers, what he just said. 

He chews, he swallows. Grasps wildly for his cane.

“So,” he says, turning around.

Poe, the hero of the Resistance and General Organa’s favorite pilot, is leaning against the enormous door with his arms crossed. “So.” There’s something dark in the man’s eye, and Finn’s not sure what it means. “It wasn’t a bad play.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Nah,” Poe says. “Is that custard bread?” 

Finn’s clutch on his cane lessens. 

*  
Days on Nar Shaddaa are long, with a burning sun and polluted air outside. If they left their quarters and entered the city proper, Finn’s sure they’d be nabbed and sold into slavery in moments. 

So they’re stuck in the room, visited occasionally by a maid to refresh the room and servants to bring new foods and collect old dishes. They’re stuck in the room together with not much to do. 

Finn’s read the dossier so many times, he could probably repeat it out loud and list each of Storga’s depravities in alphabetical order, and Poe fidgets constantly, probably longing for his ship and the open black of space. So he asks questions, hundreds of questions, and leans back against soft cushions and blankets as Poe talks and talks about his family, his crew, the Resistance. Occasionally speaks of the general and that’s when his cheeks burn red and his voice gets a little high. But there’s a sweet sort of poetry when he talks about sailing through space, the push and pull of gravity, and the freedom in falling. 

“You know,” Poe says suddenly. “I’ve told you a lot of this before. You were just, well, you were out of it.”

Finn straightens a little. “You visited me when I was--”

“I thought a human voice might help bring you back. Your friend was gone, and the nurses have a lot of patients to care for.” He colors. “I told you a lot of pilot gossip, juicy stuff too. Jessika would murder me very slowly if she knew I told you--”

“I’m--” Finn interrupts. “Thank you?” he tries. Unsure how to respond. Poe was always so busy when Finn woke up; it’s hard to imagine him spending time with-- “I’m sure it helped.”

Poe smiles. “Anytime, buddy.”

*  
When Finn admits that his legs feel a little stronger, Poe opens his mouth and a really stupid idea spills out of it: “You’re a trained killing machine and I’m really shit in a fight, why don’t we, I don’t know, spar a little?” 

It’s a really stupid idea and Finn says, “Oh, so, you want a piece of this?” and Poe smiles so wide that Finn has to look away, confusingly breathless. 

It’s a really stupid idea and soon Poe’s crushed again and again underneath him, a sweaty and gasping mess. “You’re terrible. Why are you the bodyguard?” Finn breathes out. 

“I’m good with a blaster, not hand to--” Poe struggles under Finn’s vise-like grip and then gives up. “--hand.” Finn shakes his head, and rolls to the side before getting up and gesturing. 

“My captain would have shot you by now. Again!” 

Poe leaps to his feet and balances on his feet. Raises his fists. Finn can already see five ways to get Poe back on his back, and something really warm is coiling in his belly. A feeling he can’t shake. 

It’s something akin to _want_ , he thinks; and he resists exploring that concept further. His focus is needed elsewhere; his focus is on Poe’s stance and the strength in his arm and the twist of his torso and the curve of his neck and the--

That’s when a sharp banging resounds in the room, and he shakes his head once, twice, before recognizing that it’s a knock on the door. Not the soft kind that the servants have been using, but one with real authority. 

“Take off your shirt,” Poe hisses out immediately, and is working to shed his own. 

“What--” 

“Your. Shirt.” And for some reason, the man is diving under the bed clothes, before looking expectantly up at him. 

Poe’s wordless suggestion of a ruse immediately slams into his thoughts, and his body immediately betrays him in a swirling swell of desire. Several rude words bubble out of his mouth before he tightens his jaw, swallows down the panic. 

His shirt is off before he swings open the door and stands in the presence of a giant tattooed Hutt. 

The Twi’lek behind her announces: “HER EMINENCE, STORGA THE MAGNIFICENT.”

He’s still breathing hard when he makes his well practiced bow, low and very pretty, and as he rises up, he speaks a perfect Huttese greeting. 

“Mmm,” she replies and snakes past him into the room. In an accented Basic: “Lord Gyllenstierna, you do me honor.”

She settles with full view of the bed where Poe sits, his naked chest gleaming in the light. “Handsome, handsome,” she says before: “Feel free to continue whatever it was you were up to. Don’t mind me at all.”

“But we--” Finn starts and Poe shakes his head, slightly, slightly, and Finn remembers the general’s words, and her warning. Their safety depends on keeping to the alias. 

Finn takes up the persona and almost saunters in his limp back to the bed. Casually, he lifts the bed clothes and settles in. He breathes in slowly before looking at Poe with the softest expression he can muster. What’s next is troubling as he has zero experience, barely any idea at all, but Poe surely does. 

And Finn is fast learner. 

“Kiss me,” he mouths, and there’s no longer a heart but a drum beating in his chest. 

This is how it happens: Poe’s hands reach out to pull his face close, so close, and the searing kiss that follows isn’t a chase first kiss, but that of two seasoned lovers. There’s nothing proper or judicious about it; it’s a messy, wet kiss and Poe’s tongue and teeth are everywhere, licking into him and biting at his lip. And it lingers long enough that Poe’s hand reaches down and grips him, grips his too hard dick under the covers. Finn’s eyes open wide, and that’s when he notices Poe’s been looking at the Hutt the whole time. 

This is how it feels: Like losing one’s mind. 

“Mmm,” she says again. “Finish him, I want his mind focused on business and not your pretty mouth.”

Finn helplessly watches as Poe winks and throws her such a flirtatious cavalier sort of expression before looking at Finn, right in the eye, and he whispers: “I’ve got you.” Finn isn't sure what pushes him forward but he makes their mouths meet again, sweeter this time. Poe’s lips slide softer against his, and he figures this is meant to calm him. 

He will not be calm, there’s nothing calming about any of this. 

Poe makes short work of his pants before sinking under the covers and disappearing from view. There’s two aliens, who could be hostile at any moment, and a man’s lips are around his dick. Finn leans back and casually covers his eyes with his arm, as if relaxed; and he shuts his eyes so tight, it hurts. 

The good news, it will be quick. 

No one has ever taken his dick in their mouths, and it’s not something he’s thought much about; but here he is, on silky sheets with his friend making soft sucking noises. Warmth seems to surround him, penetrate him, and he vaguely wonders if the Force is there, keeping him still and present and cautious all at the same time.

When he’s almost there, Poe stops, runs his nose along Finn’s length and Finn gasps out sharply, a heaving breathless sort of sound that makes his host chuckle. Then: Poe takes him in again, deeper this time. Finn loses control, his hand reaching to tangle fingers in Poe’s curls and his hips desperately jutting up to fuck his mouth with abandon. Poe makes a surprised sort of sound but doesn’t stop. It’s terrible, he feels terrible, and it’s the most amazing orgasm of his life. 

\--And it's over, with Poe apparently swallowing and easily clambering back up to lean carelessly against pillows, wiping his wet mouth with his hand. He winks again at the Hutt before crossing his arms and closing his eyes. 

Finn clears his throat. “Now. To business.”

*  
The Twi’lek stays behind as Finn and Poe are ordered to ready themselves for a trip down to the planet below; to Nal Hutta, the great quagmire that the Hutts have almost destroyed. So there are no words, no apologies; only Finn’s hand gripping Poe’s arm briefly and a look that he hopes displays how sorry he is, how bad he feels. 

Poe kisses him instead -- the Twi’lek is watching -- and guilt burns him like a brand.

What follows is this: from an ancient wooden boardwalk, they watch a whole legion of humans working the swamps, knee deep in mud. The notorious Jabba had left hidden treasure all over the planet and the Nikto allow Storga to use their inventory before sale. 

“Kind of them,” Finn says, dubious. 

“It breaks their spirits, I think,” she replies. 

Finn watches them move; the evenness of their step, the sharp turn of their heads. Over half of them are First Order trained, and some of them are young. It’s enough. It’s more than enough. 

“Now that you’ve seen them, let’s discuss price.”

And Finn watches as Poe fusses with his jacket, quietly sending a message through the stars of what they’ve learned.

 

*

 

**HOW ALL WAS LOST:**

The weather on Nal Hutta is tempestuous, and a storm is upon them without warning. “It is dangerous to return to the moon,” the Twi’lek says. “Her Eminence will provide you rooms here at her estate.” 

“You do us great honor,” Finn says, looking over the majordomo to the Hutt, whose searching stare lingers before she smiles. 

“Sleep well, my friends.”

*  
Finn has marched halfway into the guest room before turning around angrily to say: “There are children out there--” but Poe silences him with a gesture. 

“Gyl,” Poe says, and it’s almost like a purr. And his eyes dart into several corners of the room before Finn straightens, realizing the walls have eyes. “You’ll have your way soon enough, sweetheart,” he says, vague.

There’s something like a sob, something like panic rising up in Finn’s throat. He’s going to have to kiss Poe Dameron again; and he’s not-- he’s not--

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Poe says and grabs his hand. The pull is stronger than Finn’s hesitancy to be touched. Finn gives in, lets him be pulled into the fresher, lets Poe take off his clothes as if they’ve done this a thousand times. 

And he stares as Poe removes his own, revealing such an expanse of skin and dark curls. 

“Get in,” Poe says, gesturing to the shower, and what else can Finn do.

And that’s when it all adjusts.

“Buddy,” Poe whispers as the water noisily pounds down around them. “We’re right in the mess.”

“I’m so--” Finn starts.

Poe raises his hand. “We’re going to have to deal with it later,” he says seriously, so seriously that Finn straightens up. This is the leader of the Black Squadron after all. “The room’s under surveillance and--” he stops for a moment. Blinks. “--there’s a bottle of lube on the bedside table.”

“We could just go to sleep,” Finn says as a roar of desire rages through him, his blood warming and his dick thickening. “We don’t have to--”

“She suspects us,” Poe says frankly. “A simpleton could fly through this storm.” 

“I’m--” but the words die in his mouth.

“I know,” Poe says. “Look. It’s just sex.”

Finn recoils slightly, enough that Poe reaches out to take his hand. “And it’s me. It’s me,” Poe says before working up a dashing grin. “And I’m pretty spectacular.” And with that, Finn’s dick tightens so uncomfortably that his cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“I’ve never--” Finn starts and that’s when Poe flushes a little. 

“I’ve got you,” an echo of before. “It’s a little awkward of course, but you’ll have me pinned down in no time.”

Finn pictures it instantly, forgets to breathe.

“We have to look like we know what we’re doing so--,” Poe says before whispering the how and the where and the what. 

What Finn wants to say: _no, I can’t, will you be okay, I’m not okay_

What Finn says, and feels such a traitorous thrill as he does: “We’re going to do this.”

*  
_And so, it goes something like this:_

As soon as Finn opens the shower door, Poe’s on him; kissing him like a starved man. It’s a filthy kind of kiss, all tongue and teeth and promise. And there’s a sort of pause in Finn’s step because-- because--

It’s just nice to be kissing Poe. Just standing naked and kissing him like this is what they do, like this is normal. Breathing is sort of hard, but he ignores the burn for oxygen as his fingers reach Poe’s hair and he pulls Poe’s face closer, a tight embrace. 

Poe alters his tactic, get his mouth on Finn’s neck and his hand on Finn’s ass and grinds up against him. Naked as they are. 

Now Finn’s gasping for air, now Finn’s flattened up against a wall and his sex is pushing against Poe’s. And it’s all very real. 

I’m going to lose my nerve, I’m going to lose my nerve, I’m going to-- he thinks and Poe bites down on his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” he says without meaning to, without wanting to, and Poe pulls away with a gleeful mask on his face. 

“That’s the idea,” he says, and grips Finn’s wrist like a vise. 

_And so, it continues something like this:_

On the bed, Poe nabs the lube and makes a religious sort of gesture to the stars. “We’re in luck,” he says and waves it in Finn’s face. “It’s the good stuff too, not that cheap shit you buy.”

Finn snatches it out of his hand, and thinks about opening it before--

“Last chance to back out,” he says. Breathing unevenly. “We have a busy day tomor--” 

“Listen, you’re going to fuck me right now. You’re going to fuck me till I can’t walk straight.” Poe’s eyes are somewhat wild, a dark sort of stare that unnerves Finn. Makes him want to-- want to completely lose all control. 

“Then, get over here,” he says quietly.

Poe carefully, carefully twines around Finn’s body, settles in and gives him the most casual of kisses. His erection is obvious and his skin is so, so hot. And Finn tries a little overconfident smile as he wets his fingers with lube and moves his hand to circle Poe’s rim before pushing in to ready him. 

“That’s it,” Poe whispers, and press his mouth near Finn’s ear. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” he says even softer.

Courage and desire flood within him and he continues working Poe’s ass; being careful to listen to Poe’s ragged breathing, the tension in his muscles, and the occasional sighs of pleasure. It goes quickly but Finn’s worked up by the time he fucks in three fingers. He’s thinking about his dick in there, he’s thinking about Poe wanting his dick in there and it’s almost enough to make him come.

Poe makes a pleasant little gasp and bites his lip. “As nice as this is,” he says, “I did ask you to--”

“Hush,” Finn snaps sharply. “You love it when I do this.”

“I love having your dick inside me,” Poe retorts but shivers all over. Finn shakes his head and fucks in harder this time to prove a point. Poe’s head leans back and he keens out into the night air. “Not fair,” he says, and the voice sounds more like Poe than his alias. “You’re not being fair.”

Finn blinks, regains control of himself and pulls out his fingers, slow, slowly. Poe almost crumples from the loss. “That’s why you love me,” Finn says, and is startled by the sounds coming out of his mouth. 

Poe chuckles. “I love every inch of you.” 

There’s something dark and very upset that nestles in Finn’s core, but his dick is so hard and now wet with the lube, and eyes are on him, and it’s time. 

This is what it’s like to fuck a man: the slide of your dick inside that tightness is overwhelming, almost too much. The roar in your ears almost deafens you, keeps you from hearing Poe’s gasps and then urging cries for movement. And you’re gripping his hips so tight, you leave bruises. And when the moment almost passes, you slide in deeper still until you can’t go any further. 

That’s when Finn finds himself lost, buried under too much feeling and he lets go of his panic and leans into the act. 

Moving sharp, thrusting hard; Finn fucks in with an easy sort of rhythm. Poe alternates between gasping wildly for air and saying the most filthy things. It keeps Finn from saying what he wants, this strange sort of poetry on his mute tongue: “You’re so beautiful like this,” he can’t say.

Instead, he picks up the pace, and Poe is shuddering under him, shaking with a building pleasure. Poe didn’t tell him anything about taking care of him, but Finn figures out how to snake a hand down to grip at Poe’s dick and pull, awkwardly jerking it until Poe spills all over his fingers. 

What he didn’t hear was Poe’s mouth opening and the words “Oh, Finn” whispering out. 

Getting close, Finn grips too tight again on Poe’s hips. Poe pushes back on him, jutting his hips to spur on Finn’s movement. “I’ve got you,” Poe says, and again, it sounds like Poe. As soon as Finn thrusts in again, he’s seeing white, seeing the blinding shimmer of too white stars. And he slams forcefully into Poe until he’s through, until it’s finished and he can breathe again.

That’s when Poe chuckles, a soft sort of sound. “Right in the mess,” he wheezes out. 

_And so, it finishes like this:_

They clean up carefully, and Finn hides a grimace as he watches how gingerly Poe walks. There’s a swell of self-hate growing inside him, a festering wound. 

“That was so good, baby,” Poe says, interrupting his thoughts, and before Finn knows it, they’re kissing again. “You fucked me so good,” he whispers and Finn thinks: that was probably too quiet for a microphone to pick up. 

“Mmm,” he responds and pushes him away, feeling burned by every second Poe’s skin touches him now. “And you’re boring me now.”

Poe straightens his head and nods, a smile masking any other expression. “Sleep then,” he says. “We have much to do tomorrow.”

Finn mirrors the false smile, and wonders if he can ever sleep again.

*  
They spend the early morning readying like soldiers do; no words shared and quick movements. There’s a lot Finn wants to say, there’s a lot Finn is afraid to say -- and he knows it all has to wait until they’re out, until they’re free to do so.

The Twi’lek appears at their door soon enough: “You are to join her Eminence for a meal, to celebrate your partnership.”

The meal is extravagant, a sumptuous spread of morning delicacies for humans and live horrors for her to sup on. A bubbly sort of wine is poured generously, and Finn notices Poe taking the same tack as him - drinking perhaps a little much. Dulling the ache. 

Storga converses pleasantly enough, and Finn finds that he’s enjoying himself. Finds that his smile is securely authentic even if the stories he’s telling her are false. Poe adds flourishes to each tale, here and there, and when Finn turns to look at him appreciatively, nothing’s hiding behind Poe’s gaze to make him remember, make him think about it. 

It’s sort of wonderful and when Finn finishes another glass, he smacks his lips. 

“You like it?” Storga asks after nodding at her servants to pour another glass.

“Very much. Where’s it from?”

She chuckles. “Oh, it’s very special. Very rare. It’s from Alderraan.”

Finn doesn’t know why Poe’s hand suddenly grips his wrist. 

You see: Finn doesn’t _know._

“I know that She who is called the Huttslayer sent you,” she says, spitting out the words. “Wanting recruits for her little army. Well, now she’ll have to recruit two more after I’m finished.”

In the moment that it takes him to eye the exits, Finn dizzily realizes they’re trapped. 

“Remove his jacket, take his cane,” she orders to the now plethora of guards filling the room. 

“We--” Poe starts.

“I sincerely hope,” she says, “that you detest each other. Especially after all that delicious activity you got up to for me. And especially because he’s--” and she gestures to Finn, “--with the First Order.”

Finn bristles with rage. “I’m--”

“FN 2187, your arrival was suggested to me by a friend of yours, and a friend of mine. Organa would send someone who would recognize his own kind after all.”

“Your friend?” Finn asks, seething.

“You’ll remember her when she collects you in a few hours. She remembers you.”

That’s when he stands, only to be grasped in a guard’s grip.

“As for you,” she says, looking at Poe. “I was going to kill you, but your talents are needed in this galaxy. You’ll make such an excellent pleasure slave.”

“You flatter me, truly,” Poe says with a roguish smile, and it occurs to Finn that Storga doesn’t know Poe’s identity -- a Resistance Commander would not be thrown away like this, like a disposable spy -- and that’s a minor comfort in this affair. 

“Say goodbye,” she says, waving them away. 

There is fire in his lungs as he turns sharp enough that the guard turns with him, allowing him to watch as Poe is ripped out of his chair and put in shackles. “I’m so sorry,” he says, still woozy from the alcohol and shattered from the situation. “I’m so very sorry.”

Poe’s gaze is serious, deadly so. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

And when Finn grimaces -- nothing’s okay -- that’s when a bag is roughly put over his head. 

As he’s dragged from the room, all he can hear is Poe yelling his name. 

 

*

 

**HOW EVERYTHING CHANGED:**

They lock him up in the guest room with guards at the door. The room hasn’t been changed and it smells like sex and sweat and Finn heaves into the toilet until nothing’s left. 

_She_ , he thinks, she must be Phasma. No other option and he dry heaves until he can’t stop coughing. Misery sinks deep into his bones, all hope despairing. 

And it occurs to him that he’ll never, ever see Rey’s face again. 

There’s only this: Poe’s message may or may not have gotten to the Resistance. The abandoned sons and daughters of the First Order may yet be saved somehow.

*  
The silver gleam of her armor fills his eyes as his heart fills with dread. Phasma greets him without her usual suite of ‘troopers and unshackles him, dismisses the Hutt’s guards with a simple hand gesture. 

He imagines the cruel smile on her lips as she says: “FN 2187, it is my pleasure to collect you. You have much to discuss with _him_. Much to tell before he burns you alive.”

He sets his jaw. “My name is Finn.”

“You’ve enjoyed this little charade of playing rebel, haven’t you? A name, a mission.” She makes a sound that seems like a laugh. 

“You’re not going to get anything out of me,” he says.

“You remember that pilot you rescued, don’t you?,” and Finn straightens a little. “He trembled under Kylo Ren, mewled out like a baby. Told us everything. Are you stronger than he is?”

Finn tries to breathe steady. “You taught me how to resist pain, captain.”

“Yes, yes, I did.” She turns with her back to him. “I’d like to test that. You see, the Hutt, in her depraved sort of misguided wisdom, made me watch your little--,” and she pauses as if searching for a word, “--tête à tête.”

And Finn tenses before--

“The pilot trembled under you as well.”

Without thought, he lunges for her, his hands reaching to snap her neck. She turns and catches his arms and holds them tightly, his hands almost reaching her helmet. 

“Don’t you touch him,” he says with all the authority he can muster.

“You see, he’s already on board. I purchased him for a few measly credits from that ignorant Hutt. As if I'd let a man touch me--" and she shudders. "He’s in the cell next to yours,” she says. “We have an apparatus for him. Some relic of the Empire, actually. You’ll hear his screams all the way back to base.”

And that’s when he yells, all the sadness and panic and rage and horror pent up within him erupting in a perfect sound of anguish. 

*  
What Finn doesn’t know: the shuttle he’s on is headed to the First Order’s new base - straight shot through lightspeed with an ETA of two hours.

What Finn does know: there are lots of different sounds Poe can make while tortured. 

Finn’s past the point of understanding at this point, past the point of reason and truth; all he can do is lean against his door and listen, his face wet from tears. It’s erratic, whatever torture table they’re using on Poe -- sometimes, there are long pauses between Poe’s screams. 

It’s wrong, and it’s unfair, and it’s all his fault. 

It’s enough to drive a man mad. It’s enough to make him willing to tell every secret he knows about the Resistance. Shame overwhelms him as he knows he’ll never be strong enough. He’ll tell them everything if they just stop-- if they just stop--

He bangs on the door, bangs on it till he bleeds; yells, begs, shouts till he’s hoarse. “Please,” he gasps out and he can hear Poe’s calling out his name. The sounds seems to linger in the air, and Finn loses all hope.

And that’s when the ship rocks violently from side to side. 

*  
What Finn doesn’t know: a ship has boarded the First Order shuttle. A ship bearing two passengers. 

What Finn does know: the screaming has stopped.

Finn has no idea what to expect next; all he knows is four walls and one flashing light. He’s unshackled, which is something, and so he stands at the ready at the door and his hands are in fists. 

Time passes, and he thinks of many options, many opportunities, and many considerations. What bothers him the most is: Poe. Somehow, the silence is worse. The unknown is worse.

And the door finally slides open, letting fresh air mingle with stale. Finn braces himself, literally anyone could walk in. He has a very active imagination. 

It's a man, on the verge of being wizened, and there's a soft sort of smile on his face. “Ah, it is you,” he says in a low and friendly sort of voice. 

“Excuse me?”

“I’m Luke Skywalker,” he says and Finn’s whole world seems to spin. “I'm here to rescue you.”

The words come out before he can stop them: “Don't you have better things to do than this?”

A familiar voice pipes up behind the old man -- the renowned Jedi Master -- “Actually no.” And when Luke moves aside, Finn’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest. 

“We are exactly where we need to be,” Rey says. 

What Finn doesn't know: His smile is as wide and as beautiful as hers. 

 

*

 

**HOW THE PIECES CAME TOGETHER:**

A Jedi Master and one in training have made short work of Phasma’s shuttle, and there are adjustments in the arrangements. Finn has only a glimpse of blonde curls as Rey pushes an unarmed, unmasked Phasma into his old cell. Dark thoughts permeate him, ideas of what should be done with her, but he doesn’t dare speak them aloud.

And Poe’s out cold. There’s no bacta, no morphine on the ship, so Luke’s put him in a deep Force-induced sleep. Finn’s first instinct is to hold his hand. Instead, he runs his fingers through Poe’s sweaty curls. Says: “I’m so sorry.”

In the ship’s war room, they discuss next steps.

“You see,” Rey explains, “we were on our way to find Ben and I _felt_ you, felt you on the very ship we’ve been tracking.”

“You’re very loud in the Force right now,” Luke says carefully. “Very loud.”

Finn squints his eyes. “You’re on your way to find--”

“Ben-- Kylo Ren,” Rey says resolutely, and when she smiles, it’s all teeth. “This ship is heading straight towards him.” And she pauses before: “Come with us, we could use you.”

Finn struggles with the words. “Look, we had a mission. The general’s mission. To save hundreds of soldiers for her on Nal Hutta. With both of you, we’d--”

“The ship is hurtling towards the First Order base, Finn,” Rey says. “Towards _him_.”

And a shiver runs down his spine. “Are you ready for this, Rey?” he says quietly. 

She lifts her chin. “Yes,” she says as Luke breathes out a “No.”

They stare at him, both surprised, and Luke has a sad sort of smile on his face. “You were ready for this shuttle, not for a entire First Order base.”

“You brought me out here just to save Finn?” she gapes. “Ben is almost ours.” 

Luke says softly: “We have souls to save, Rey.”

“Was this your plan all along?”

“The Force works in--”

“Don’t you dare finish that,” Rey seethes, and her hands are fists but Finn reaches out to grasp her hand anyway. 

“Listen, Poe needs help, and these soldiers need help.”

“I want him, Finn,” she breathes out and he nods. 

“I know,” he says, “I know,” and his back tingles. 

They stare at each other long, a gaze that lingers, and Finn considers how similar she is to the Skywalkers he’s known. 

A much needed interruption: “We will need reinforcements,” Luke says, “And it’s time I returned to my sister.” 

*  
The Black Squadron awaits them as they arrive near D’Qar. Finn thinks of their commander smelling of burned flesh and metal in the belly of the ship; and he winces. It takes a few moments for them to fully understand that this First Order ship is a friendly, and carrying the general’s brother. 

“Are you ready to face her?” Finn hears Rey ask. 

Luke chuckles in response but Finn knows certain panic when he sees it. 

*  
Finn leans against the wall, staring at Poe’s submerged body in the bacta tank. There are bruises everywhere and Finn’s eyes are especially drawn to the ones on Poe’s hips -- his work, his mark on the man. Grief and heartache flood through him, and he feels like there is a noxious wound weeping in his heart. _It was a mistake_ , he thinks, _it was a mistake to let him in, let him close._

_Too late now_ , he thinks. 

He doesn’t leave medical, no matter how fierce the nurses get. 

The general’s aide arrives first, demanding a situation report about the unfinished, incomplete mission. It’s easy to tell, but he leaves out the parts that have stayed with him the most; the curve of Poe’s eyelashes, the sweetness of his mouth, the way his heart wrenched as he lost himself. 

Rey comes next, curious and curiouser about Poe, asking question after question. And Finn opens his mouth and tells her almost everything; tells her enough that her eyes go wide and her cheeks flush pink. Tells her enough that she grasps his hand and says: “you’re in love with him a little bit.” Finn recoils from the word at first before: “a little bit, yeah.”

Then there is Jessika, who just wants assurance that Poe’s still breathing before giving Finn the once over. “You’re still wearing his jacket, I see.” And Finn shrugs before: “Break his heart, and I break your face,” she says and he’s too startled to respond.

The general arrives in the middle of the night and presses her hand to the tank’s glass. She stands there in silence for a long time. He’s terrified of her anger, terrified that she will turn and strike at him for damaging her favorite. At last: “Thank you for bringing him home.” 

*  
It’s light when he opens his eyes, awake from a dreamless sleep, and the tank is empty. Finn’s on his feet in an instant with Poe’s name on his lips. 

It takes a few moments to find him, and he finds him sitting up and eating custard bread with a huge smile on his face. “Hey, buddy.”

There are so many words in his mouth, desperate to be said, but what comes out is: “You look terrible.”

Poe laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound Finn’s ever heard.

“The nurse told me that Luke Skywalker brought me in. Carried me like a baby. I’m not quite sure how to process it.” 

“It was definitely a sight.”

There’s a color growing in Poe’s cheeks. “She also told me you refused to leave.”

He nods his head; once, twice, and tries not to lose his nerve. “Yeah.”

A silence starts, as they stare at each other without blinking; a sort of tension grows and Finn’s heart races before--

“You know, we haven’t talked, like, as _us_ in a while. This is nice.”

Finn feels hot all over. “This is nice,” he echoes. 

Poe bites his lip, and his gaze turns a little dark. “Was it okay? You know, what we did. Are you okay?”

That’s when his knees turn a little watery and he has to sit down, and he fusses a little with his jacket, looking away and trying to think of an answer. “I’m okay,” he lies. “I’m just-- I never--.” There are so many things he wants to say, none of them _not_ awkward. So he tries to say: “It was just--.”

“I’d like to do it again,” Poe interrupts quietly and Finn’s so glad he’s sitting down. “You know. For real this time.”

“Uh,” Finn says, intelligently.

“If you want to,” Poe says.

The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them: “I want to.”

“Good.”

Finn breathes out slowly and fights the urge to run from the room. There’s a panic and a desire twining up inside him, burning him like a flame.

“Now,” Poe says, looking very pleased with himself. “Now, you’re going to kiss me.”

“Is that what I’m going to do?” Finn says weakly.

“Yup.”

This is how it happens: Finn lifts himself out of his chair, and takes four uneven strides to stand by the bed, stand over Poe. Every inch of his skin tingles, _this is real, this is real, this is real,_ he thinks. Poe is looking up at him, expectant. The curve of his lips are slightly raised. Finn leans in as Poe moves closer. There’s nothing cavalier or flirtatious in Poe’s face, nothing but a soft sort of expression. And then Poe closes his eyes, and Finn closes the distance. Their lips meet, and it’s a chaste sort of kiss; warm and sweet. Finn will consider it their first. After a moment, Poe’s hand raises and he grips Finn’s jacket tight and he opens his mouth. Everything turns white hot from there, and Finn’s heart soars. 

 

*

 

**HOW IT ENDED:**

Out of the viewpoint, they stare at the yellow and brown swirl of storms on Nal Hutta, with the blinking shimmer of Nar Shaddaa in the distance. To his right, Rey’s in the silvery gleam of Phasma’s armor; to his left, Luke is dressed neatly like a First Order general. Lightsabers are discreetly hidden. 

And he’s in white, all in glossy white, all over again. The armor pinches him in all the wrong places as usual, and he hates it, hates it. 

A cargo ship sails behind them, big enough to fit hundreds, and with a team of medical to administer the troops in whatever shape they’re in. 

The Nikto hail them first, all business, all politeness. No one likes a First Order shuttle in a planet’s orbit. The faster their needs are met, the faster they leave. 

Rey’s voice rings out in a perfectly accented Basic: “We’ve come to reclaim our property. No questions asked.”

And with a somewhat pinched face, the alien replies: “I will make the arrangements--”

“No, we will collect them ourselves. We know where you keep them.”

“As you wish, your honor.”

*  
They descend together to the planet in the cargo ship, leaving the shuttle on autopilot. 

It’s a strange thing, to return in yet another disguise. _It went so well the last time_ , he thinks grimly. Finn has to steady his breathing, return to old habits as he marches behind Rey’s form. A stormtrooper never limps, but there’s nothing for it.

The familiar Twi’lek is waiting for them at the landing pad, but before he can speak, Luke raises his hand. 

“Of course, your honor,” the Twi’lek immediately says and gets out of their way. 

“So-ooo, can you do that?” Finn asks as quietly as he can. 

He doesn’t know it, but Rey smiles a little behind her mask. “The Force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded,” she says vaguely. 

“You’re really quite scary, you know,” he says and there’s a new kind of calm that lingers in his bones, knowing that he’s probably quite safe with the last Jedi. 

All the same, he misses Poe being a few steps behind him, moving with a sauntering gait. Misses the opportunity to turn and look at him, fill his gaze with Poe’s features and feel a collision of emotion - something akin to excitement, something akin to peace. 

*  
When they find them, when they’re face to face with hundreds of ex-troopers, their aliases backfire. 

“No, we’re not going back,” says one of them in the front. “You’ll have to kill us.” And other voices chime in, loud and clear in the air. 

Luke turns to Rey. “Are you ready for this? For all of them?” and he raises both of his hands.

She touches his shoulder and shakes her head. “No, no.” And she looks at Finn. “Take off your helmet.”

Finn considers this, considers what a mob can do, and removes his helmet. Shows his face. 

The tension lessens, slightly, slightly, and whispers begin. Finn raises his voice so as many of them can hear him say: “I used to be a stormtrooper. I used to be FN 2187. I’m one of you.” There’s a buzzing roar now to the growing whisper.

“We thought you were a myth,” someone calls out. 

“A story they told to scare us,” another says.

And finally: “Is this a rescue mission? Are you here to save us?” 

There’s a blossoming sensation of relief, of wonder, that, months ago, he made the right call to leave, to escape, to fight his way out of the First Order. To be the traitor that inspired others, continues to inspire. 

_It’s me_ , he thinks, _I did this, I’m doing this._ And it’s a little strange, a little embarrassing, as his eyes grow wet. “Yes,” he says. “All of you.”

*  
It is Storga herself that stands between them -- a mass of humans and two Jedi and an unmasked stormtrooper -- and the cargo ship in her landing pad. 

“You,” she says in Huttese. “You twice cursed fraud.” 

“Your Eminence,” Finn says in Basic and makes his well practiced bow, low and very pretty.

Rey raises her hand, but Luke reaches out, pushes her hand down. 

“You think you’re really going to save these miscreants,” the Hutt says. “Rubbish, trash of the First Order. You’re a fool.”

“And you think you’re really going to stop us?” Finn retorts and levels his blaster at her. “You’re outnumbered, you’re outgunned. And you’re complicit with our agenda twice over now.” And he thinks, he really thinks about pulling the trigger. Thinks about how many bullets it will take to kill a Hutt. Thinks about how angry he is, thinks of his rage and his thirst for revenge. And he says: “We’re going to leave you to the First Order’s mercy.”

When he turns away from her, she screams for guards, but no one is a match for Luke and Rey. 

And when it’s over, the legion behind them pushes her aside, hard enough that she rolls and smashes into the wall, as they file into the cargo ship, and to safety.

*  
As they rise up out of the atmosphere and towards their First Order shuttle, an alert wails throughout the ship. “Full shields,” Rey says just before an elite battle cruiser appears out of lightspeed. “They’re here.”

And on all channels, a voice rings out: “ENEMY VESSEL, SUBMIT YOURSELF TO THE FIRST ORDER. HOW DARE YOU IMPERSONATE--”

And Luke silences the comm. 

Finn shudders deeply, all over; like as if sinking inevitably into freezing cold water. The thought of being taken, of everyone on the ship being taken is enough to make his teeth chatter together. 

But then: Rey hits the communications link and says, “It’s time.”

In a shimmer of movement, the Black Squadron drops out of lightspeed as well as a fully armed battleship, which sails between their cargo ship and the First Order cruiser, taking the initial hits.

And his eyes are filled with red and green lights as the battle begins.

Finn imagines the chaos on the planet and moon below; the criminal world panicking to be so near, so dreadfully near this skirmish – where the aftermath and clean up and fall out will be on them.

First casualty: their captured First Order ship, and Finn’s so relieved that it was empty. Finn’s so happy to know the echo of Poe’s screams between metal walls is gone. 

And his eyes immediately are drawn to the X-wing who glides through space like he owns it, like he can bend it to his whims. The flourish of his spins, the sharpness in his turns, and the finality of his kills.

“Your friend’s one hell of a pilot,” Luke says before: “We have an opening, and we’re taking it.”

And within seconds, they’re in lightspeed, the light blue and white streaks fill his vision but all he can see is that X-wing, still in danger, still fighting.

If he feels that it’s a mistake to have attachments, he immediately suppresses it. 

After all, Rey came back. 

Moments pass as they hurtle through space, and soon, Luke turns, his gaze so very soft. “They escaped, Finn. All of them.”

Finn stares, breathes.

Rey, however, Rey is sitting up straight, her head snapped to attention and her eyes have a sort of dark look about them. 

“Are you--” Finn starts. 

“They escaped, before--,” she says, and then she smiles. And it’s not a pretty smile at all. Finn shivers. “--Before he arrived.”

Luke leans back in his seat, watching her. 

“He’s not very happy right now,” she says and she breathes in the air like it smells sweet.

What Finn doesn’t know, and what Rey does: Kylo Ren’s scream is echoing through the Force with all his rage and all his disappointment. 

*  
_And from there, it goes a little like this:_

When he steps off the gangplank on D’Qar, he searches for any sign of the Black Squadron, only to find himself immediately marched into an intelligence briefing. They don’t even ask for him to remove the stormtrooper armor and his whole body aches. 

“--how did you convince 384 persons to--”

And that’s when Poe skids into the room -- he had been running so fast -- and hollering the whole way. “You did it! You completed the mission!” he says. 

The officer glares. “Commander,” she says delicately. “May we help you?”

“Yes, actually.” Poe nods feverishly. “The general, she needs Finn at once. Right now.”

“I wasn’t notified--”

“You’re being notified right now,” Poe retorts and grabs Finn’s gloved hand, tugs. 

Finn throws the officer a helpless look before letting the man pull him out of the room, out into the hallways, out into--

“This is a closet,” Finn says helpfully. 

And Poe pushes him right up against the closed door and moves in for the most amazing kiss of Finn’s life. Which is saying something since Finn has been thoroughly kissed by Poe the past few days.

“You’re going to be in so much trouble, _we’re_ going to be--” Finn starts but Poe kisses the words away, gripping his armored shoulders. 

“The general owes me,” Poe finally says and he smiles, so wide and so warm, and so very, very real. It's not a ruse, it's not an alias, it's real desire. 

So, Finn throws caution to the wayside: “Help me take this armor off.” 

It’s a slow affair; they are easily distracted by simple kisses tinged with a growing heat, by Poe running his fingers along Finn’s underclothes as armor parts are removed, by Finn helplessly grinding up against Poe when his legs are free. When there’s enough white gleaming on the floor, when he can’t wait any longer, Finn begins to fumble with Poe’s buckle. 

“Hey,” Poe laughs nervously. “Don’t--”

“Hush,” Finn says and gets to his knees, looks up at Poe and has no idea how incredibly sweet his own expression is. “Let me do this for you.”

Poe stares down at him, a shadow sliding over his face. “I’m not saying no, I’m saying, are you okay?”

“Better than,” he says and gets Poe’s dick in his hands. “We’re going to do this.”

He remembers the how, remembers how it went, and all he wants, from the tingling in his feet to the ringing in his ears, is to show Poe how he feels. To prove it, to confirm it.

This is what it’s like to take a man into your mouth for the first time: it’s awkward, it’s so awkward, but Poe immediately gasps out low and slow and all you want is for those gasps to continue, for them to turn into a cry, a keening sort of sound. For your name to be on his lips. So you tease, and you suck, and you grip his hips so tight, you leave bruises. And when you find enough courage, you let him deep, too deep, into your mouth and don’t mind at all as he thrusts into you with his fingers tangled in your hair. And you don’t mind if he tugs a little too hard. And you don’t mind at all when he comes, and it’s easy enough to swallow the bitter taste down because Poe can’t stop gasping. 

It’s pride, Finn thinks, and a certain relief flowing through his blood stream now. He did it, and he did it well. 

Poe sags to the floor, and he leans in towards Finn, like a sunflower to the sun. “Uh,” he says blankly. 

So Finn kisses him, gentle at first, before his own desire overwhelms him. He’s so hard he can barely keep it together. And all he wants is Poe’s hands on him, all he wants is Poe’s mouth at his neck and his hand on his dick, and there’s nothing to keep him from asking, but a shyness overtakes him. 

He’s new at all of this, you see. 

There’s a soft sort of look in Poe’s eyes as he gazes at him now. “You’re amazing,” he says. “Pretty fucking spectacular.” And he giggles, manic. “Is this okay, like, I need you to be okay--”

With a sudden vulnerability: “Do you really want m--”

“Wrong question,” Poe says, almost breathless. “See, I’ve wanted you, you, you amazing you, for a very long, very long time--”

“Just stop.” Finn stares, unsure. “I’m this, and I used to be--,” and he gestures to the armor on the floor. “And I think the general has a plan for me, she certainly has one for you.”

“People fall in love in war every day.”

The words resonate between concrete walls. There’s a tension that builds in the back of Finn’s spine, reverberates through the metal and the bone and echoes in every inch of him. “Every day,” he echoes. 

“And,” Poe says, grinning something terrible and pressing his hand against Finn’s hardened length. “Yeah, I think I’m also a little in love with your dick.” His eyes flutter close and his cheeks color. 

Finn coughs out a laugh, incredulous, amused. And with the most helpless of shrugs: “It's all yours.”

Poe’s eyes open so fast. “And I really, really want you inside me again, but--.” 

“--But not here,” Finn breathes out.

Then: “It’s going to be different, you know that. I'm going to _be different._ Is that--” Poe tries.

Quick, even words: “That’s good, that’s really good.” 

“I’ll tell you what’s good,” Poe says, smiling. “Because you’re going to get up and I’m going to blow you right now, this instant.”

“I--” but he does, and Poe--

And it’s not that good really, it’s so simple and so fast and Finn’s hands grip at the wall behind him. It’s too much feeling, it’s too much and he may scream, unable to manage it all, but when it’s over, when Poe’s neatly rearranged his pants and gotten to his feet, Finn hones in on what he wants to say.

“I think I’ve been in love with you this whole time.” 

And when Poe smiles, it lights up the room.

*  
_And it goes a little like this too:_

Rey sits close, nudges him with her shoulders and smiles. “You’re happy.” 

Finn smiles. Can’t decide on a word to say. 

“Then I’m happy too.”

They sit watching the sunrise on the evergreen D’Qar; soaking in the green and the yellow and the oranges and pinks. Colors like they’ve never seen their whole lives. 

It's a quiet sort of moment and Finn considers what precious little was in his life before; and now, and now, and now--

“We gonna do this? Go after him?”

She leans over, presses her head against his shoulder. “Mmm,” she says. 

What Finn doesn't know: the ripple Rey is sending through the living Force, and how concerned an old Jedi master is when he feels it. 

“You’ll destroy him,” he says, and he believes it. “Every inch of him.”

“I intend to,” she says, so quiet he barely hears her words. 

He remembers Jakku, and about the horrors he saw and heard. He remembers the searing fire of a lightsaber blade along his back and the echoes of screaming in a snow white forest. He remembers the shattered pilot with trickles of blood rolling down his face. He remembers Solo’s words and the shadow in Luke’s expression. 

And he says: “We all have skin in this game, Rey.”

When she turns to look at him, the look in her eyes is slightly unnerving. “That’s why you’re coming with me, both of you.”

There’s a tightness in his chest, the slight rise of panic. And there’s the burning sensation of revenge, and of hope. Of belief. He nods his head up and down; once, twice. 

“You're a good man, Finn,” she says, and he puts his arm around her. 

He’s learned, and he’s still learning how the people you love make you stronger. 

*  
The stormtrooper armor is back on, this time comfortably tailored, and Finn feels a little excited, a little at peace. There’s a man, a Resistance pilot, waiting for him at the gangplank with a giant smile on his lips. 

Poe drops into a very graceful bow and the look on his face makes Finn shiver all over. It’s the promise of danger, it’s the intimacy of a coupled alias, and it’s the thrill of the unknown. 

What he says is: “Adventure awaits us.”

#

**Author's Note:**

> The gen overarching plotline is inspired by [have you heard](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5798602) which is a fucking masterpiece. Go read it if you haven’t. It’ll blow your mind. 
> 
> Rey’s entire emotional state is inspired by [this tumblr post](http://liminal-zone.tumblr.com/post/160373556972/kanjiklubs-rey-anakin-skywalker-parallels) which makes me endlessly gleeful. #ReySkywalker 4EVER
> 
> And the title is inspired by [this awesome tumblr post.](http://liminal-zone.tumblr.com/post/159643380552/imwhe-insp)
> 
> Pleased as punch to finally, finally (even after being in SG1 fandom), _finally_ write the ‘aliens made them do it’ trope. 
> 
> This was a delight to write. I hope you enjoyed it. <3


End file.
